


constant star

by twistofpayne



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No One Direction, Gen, M/M, Multi, One Direction Imagines, One Direction One Shot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15204359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistofpayne/pseuds/twistofpayne
Summary: Niall and Harry through the years on their annual camping trip on the English moor. Life changes, but Harry's wish upon a star does not.





	constant star

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly based on the O. Henry story "The Skylight Room" and minorly based on a Walt Whitman poem:
> 
> When I heard the learn’d astronomer,  
> When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,  
> When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,  
> When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,  
> How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,  
> Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,  
> In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,  
> Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

_Niall is thirteen.  
_

The dilapidated sedan crawls to a halt a quarter mile past the moor’s eastern gate. Bobby turns around in the driver’s seat, one hand braced against the headrest of the passenger seat, and nods once to each of them. “Meet me back here at 9 o’clock sharp, boys. Niall? Got your watch?”

Grinning with every inch of his mouth, Niall points to the wristwatch dangling from his left arm, just a little too big for his thin, preteen wrists. “9 o’clock!” he repeats.

“Good. And, Harry... don’t tell your mum I’m letting you boys do this.”

Niall can hear a snatch of Harry’s delirious giggle before they each open their doors and tumble out of the back seat.

Harry grabs his pack first from the car’s boot and hauls it to the ground. Niall can hear the tent poles clatter as it hits the ground with enough impact to send a pillow of dusty grit into the air.  He squats to the ground and threads his hands through the straps, then tries to stand up. Instead of straightening up, he immediately keels forward, staggered by the top-heavy weight of the pack.

Niall bellows out a laugh and rushes to help Harry up. “Here,” he says as he grabs the top handle of the canvas pack and hefts upward with all his might. Harry follows his momentum and in half a second stands tall and earnest next to Niall, his triumphant grin threatening to outshine the sun.

“Now help me,” Niall says. He leaves his pack in the boot and rotates it so the straps face outward. He pulls them over his shoulders and leans forward while Harry pushes up. “There!” he says at last. They both turn to face Bobby.

“Got the sandwiches? And the torches?” Bobby asks. Niall nods. It’s the first time Bobby’s allowing them to go on their annual camping trip by themselves. He’s been doing this since he was five and his parents divorced, and brought Harry since he was eight. Besides, it’s only one night beneath the stars.

Just one night, he thinks later when he and Harry have rolled out their sleeping bags, close enough to the fire to feel its warmth but far enough that the sparks don’t threaten their nylon bags. He and Harry lie head-to-head on their backs, head cushioned by folded hands, staring upward at the astonishingly wide sky above them.

Niall could probably spend all night staring into the heavens. They’re lucky that the moor is secluded enough for even the Milky Way to be visible, a pearly ribbon of cerulean against the navy expanse. He knows all the summer constellations by heart. He points them out to Harry, who seems to forget each summer until Niall’s finger traces the celestial figures for him every trip.

“And that’s Draco, see? You can’t see that one if you’re in the city.”

He hears Harry tilt his head to follow the path of Niall’s index finger. “Which one’s your favourite?“

“Favourite?” Niall lets his arm drop to the side while he widens his eyes to drink in the night sky blanketing them. Then he points to the direction of six o’clock. “Bootes. Because it’s called Bootes.”

Harry chuckles at that, and the two fall silent. After a moment, Harry lifts his hand and points somewhere above him and to his left. “I have a favourite star. It’s that one.”

Niall cranes his neck to look where Harry’s pointing, but there’s no specific constellation in that part of the sky. Just an infinite pool of stars. “That bright one?” he asks, trying to follow Harry’s light of sight.

“Nah. Just below it, and to the left.”

Squinting, Niall studies the star, trying to understand what drew Harry’s attention. “Why?” he asks.

He feels, rather than sees, Harry shrug. “I just like it. I’ve decided to name it Francine.”

Niall stops craning his neck and cradles his hands back beneath his head. “You’re so fuckin’ weird sometimes, Haz.”

There’s a long silence that amplifies with its duration, and Niall wishes he could take it back. “Am I, Niall?”

Anyone else would have said those words sarcastically, but Harry’s tone is faint and earnest, befuddled. Niall knows this isn’t the first time Harry’s heard someone say that to him, but this time he actually takes it seriously. And the thought rises like bile in Niall’s throat. He doesn’t want Harry to change. He doesn’t want Harry to be any different.

“Yeah, but that’s why we’re friends,” Niall says forcefully. And he means it.

There’s another long silence, and Niall wonders if he should say something else to assuage Harry, but Harry is again the first to speak.

“I’ve decided my star isn’t a girl. His name is Liam,” he announces.

* * *

 

_Niall is fifteen._

The sky isn’t as clear this time. They picked a spot too close to a village, and the Milky Way is invisible, but Draco and Hercules still watch over them as they pass a stolen bottle of whiskey back and forth. It scorches Niall’s throat and burns his eyes, but it’s theirs for the taking.

“Look, there he -- _hic_ \-- is,” Harry hiccups as he hands the bottle back to Niall. He points a shaky hand to the eastern sky. “Liam, just like last year.”

Niall takes a slosh and wipes his watering eyes before looking upward. “I swear you pick a new star every year,” he slurs.

“‘Course not,” Harry says. He eyes the bottle of whiskey and then shakes his head when Niall offers it to him. “No more.” He looks back up into the sky. “I told you he was my favourite. Not flashy. Burning away up there. Billions of miles away.”

“Whatever. Have you got any more Jaffa cakes? I’m starved.”

But after Harry swoons forward, sodden with whiskey, and Niall tucks him into his sleeping bag, he makes a note on his star chart.

And sure enough, the next year, Harry points out the same seemingly insignificant star.

* * *

 

_Niall is eighteen._

It's the first time that Niall drives them instead of Bobby. He brings a pack of smokes that Harry won't touch, and a bottle of whiskey that they didn't have to steal this time.

"Greg's being a fuckin' twat," he spits out around the cig as the dusk draws around them.

Harry makes a noise between a harrumph and a grunt. "You don't need a brother when you've got Josh and Cal," he says. A pause. "And me."

Niall takes a drag on the cig, coughs, and tosses it aside. "These are shit," he says. "I shoulda listened to you."

He hears, rather than sees, Harry's satisfied smirk. "Thought I was a fuckin' weirdo."

"You are," Niall says. "Don't make me flick this cig at you."

They lapse into an easy silence while night falls. It's cloudy this time, not many stars except the few that manage to peek out at the horizon. Venus shines to the west and Niall fixes his gaze on it, like it's an anchor in a storm.

Harry takes a draught of the whiskey bottle and passes it to Niall. "Here, a vice I approve of."

"You're back on whiskey, then? Thought you gave it up after that camping trip three years ago."

Harry leans back to settle into his sleeping bag. "Ah, Niall, I've matured, see."

It's Niall's turn to harrumph, but he takes the whiskey and pours himself a healthy splash.

"Taylor didn't want me to come this year," Harry's voice floats up from below Niall.

He lets out a long, slow breath and shakes his head. "I know you like her, but shit, Harry--"

"We broke up."

"Oh." The silence fills Niall more than the liquor. "Shit."

"Yeah. 'Ts for the best."

Niall leans back to rest his head beside Harry's, their feet aiming in opposite directions. He lifts his shot glass. "To Taylor, then."

Harry lifts his hand to hold an invisible cup. "Nah. To Liam, wherever he's burning tonight."

Niall shakes his head, but can't wipe the smile from his face. "Fuckin' weird."

* * *

 

_Niall is twenty-one._

"I got you a graduation gift for finishing uni," Harry says as they roll out their sleeping mats beside the fire. "You're gonna love it."

"Christ, if you got me another essential oil--"

"Ta-da!" Harry whips a bottle of Clynelish 12-year single malt scotch from his backpack. "Thought we'd go posh tonight."

Niall laughs. "Jesus, well, it's better than a kale smoothie." He dusts his knees off and sinks onto the top of his nylon bag. "I got you something, too." His voice nearly shakes with excitement. He hadn't told Harry that he'd snuck in an elective astronomy course at uni, though it had nothing to do with his International Affairs degree. He sits up and digs through his pack, looking for a folded manila envelope. He grins to himself as he pulls it from pack’s innards and smooths it against his lap before handing it to Harry.

“Oh wow, paper!” Harry says in mock enthusiasm. He switches on his headlamp (the red light, of course, so as to not ruin their star-gazing eyes to the light) and unsheathes a thick cardstock from the outer envelope.

Niall scoots closer to Harry, who bends his neck closer to the paper to read it. He points out a star map in the center of the page. “See? It’s Liam.”

Harry doesn’t answer. He continues staring at the page, glowing scarlet in the light of his headlamp, and Niall’s grin falters. “I adopted it,” he explains hurriedly. “You can adopt a star. Liam is 226K-421G, located at coordinates 18h 36m 56s and 38º 47' 01". I adopted it for you, Harry.”

In response, Harry slowly slides the sheaf back into the envelope and clicks off the headlamp. Niall stares at Harry in the sudden darkness, confused and slightly offended.

“Niall... thanks. But...” Harry trails off, then lifts his chin to stare back up into the sky, avoiding Niall’s gaze. “I don’t really want 226K-421G. I prefer Liam.”

“Okay,” Niall says numbly, mostly to fill the silence rather than indicate acknowledgment of Harry’s quiet refusal. Then, “I learned about it in my astronomy course. I calculated the coordinates myself.”

“That’s really cool, Nialler.” It’s a testament to their friendship that Niall knows Harry means it. He’s not one to say anything he doesn’t mean. “Uni-level astronomy, that must have been hard.”

“It was,” Niall says, once more leaning back to line on his sleepsack, trying to swallow his disappointment with another swill of whiskey. “I learned so much, though. Like, you’ve heard that the universe is expanding and every galaxy is zooming away from us every second?”

Harry, too, collapses back against his sleeping bag. “Yeah, Gemma told me that once.”

“Well, it’s not really like that. They’re not really moving away from us, so much as the space between us and them is getting bigger. And some day, the space between us is gonna be so big that we'll never see the light from them."

Harry falls silent. It’s only from the faint sound of his exhales does Niall know he’s not asleep. “You mean, one day there won’t be any starlight?”

“Yeah.” Niall nods, smiling lightly. “One day billions of years from now.”

“Well,” Harry says sharply, “that’s a perfectly terrifying thought. Thank you for gracing us with that.”

Niall laughs out loud. “Billions of years, mate. We won’t be here.” He tilts his head up to take another sip of whiskey.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional sips of liquor that they pass back and forth. “Imagine if there were still humans around then. On a starship. Chasing the last lights of the dying stars. Bit romantic, innit?”

Niall smiles through a swallow of beer. “Hmm. We didn’t touch on that in class.”

“Shame." Niall laces his fingers behind his head and refuses the dregs of the bottle from Harry, and they stare up in perfect silence at the stars.

* * *

 

The next morning, with both their heads heavy and slogged with last night's Clynelish, they set off on their day hike along a wide, unnamed stretch of river that feeds into the River Derwent. The air is cool and breezy by the rushing water, and Niall feels his energy restoring with each step, even with the heavy pack digging into his shoulders. Another mile and they'll find a spot to picnic, and then head back to the car park where they left his car. The day is as clear as last night was, and the sunshine splashes happily across the riverside trail.

But the good favour doesn't last. He hears Harry stumble before he hears the shout of alarm, but by the time Niall swings around to look behind him, he's too late to stop Harry from tumbling heel over head down the rocky bank into the water.

He doesn't panic - not yet anyway - the river isn't deep and he knows Harry can swim. But all the swimming prowess in the world couldn't get Harry out of the eddy that's caught his pack, pushing his head repeatedly under beneath the dead weight of the pack and unrelenting flow of the current rushing over rock.

"Shit," Niall swears and drops his pack at once. He scrambles down the bank, ignoring the sharp pain in his foot when he hits a rock at the wrong angle. Harry's head bobs in and out of the water and Niall can see his expression growing more and more stricken as his arms and legs try and fail to propel him into open water. Niall can see that his pack is caught on a submerged boulder, and the force of the water flowing over and around it prevents Harry from extricating himself from the tangle of straps.

He plows into the water at top speed and quickly decides that his best course of action is to get Harry's head above water so he can breathe. He wades through the current until he's just behind Harry and braces his feet as best as he can against the river bottom. He pivots and pushes his back against Harry's to incline the taller boy forward against the current. Harry's face breaks the surface and he splutters for air in terrified gasps. "My arm," he splinters out. "I can't get my arm out."

"Breathe first. I'll get to your pack in a sec," he says, hoping that keeping his voice even will calm Harry as much as he wishes it could calm himself.

After a few more seconds Harry shakes his head. "Just get me out of here."

"Okay. Hold your breath. Ready? One, two, THREE!" he releases Harry's weight and he goes down again, but this time he struggles less, saving his strength instead of fighting against the current. Niall wades as fast as he safely can to position himself upstream of Harry and his pack. He plunges his hands into the cold water and feels the tight canvas straps caught between two boulders. He scrabbles at them and feels the tension give as the straps slip free.

But in his haste he forgot to hold on to the pack. It tips forward with the flow of the current and Niall reaches up with a splash to stop it from falling onto Harry. He can't see Harry on the other side of the pack, and then all of a sudden the pack rips free from his grasp. What little calm Niall held onto vanishes when he sees Harry's plaid shirt drifting out towards the open water, straps still affixed to it. Harry's head bobs up and down again and Niall realizes something is very, very wrong. Harry must have given a giant tug the moment Niall loosed the pack, which toppled what little leverage Harry had and sent him careening into the open water with the dead weight of the bag dragging him down.

And now, Harry is out of reach. Niall screams out in panic, but the current is moving much faster than he can wade, faster than he can safely chase Harry without risking getting something caught as well. Harry's wet hair surfaces one last time before the river bends quickly around a steep embankment. Niall flouders out of the water on the opposite bank and runs flat out, all pain in his ankle forgotten.

He reaches the bend in the river and rushes down towards the water's edge, hoping Harry has washed up on the opposite bank by the force of the current. But Harry isn't there. He whirls to scan the depths of the river, and he sees movement from the corner of his eye and his heart nearly stops.

It's a man--two men actually, one cradling the other and kneeling on a sandy beach not ten yards from Niall's position. He nearly falls over himself as he stumbles forward and recognizes Harry's soaking wet tartan shirt.

He reaches the pair when the prostrate one, Harry, coughs up a lungful of river water and gasps almost hysterically for breath. The other man looks up at the noise of Niall's approach. "This your friend?" he asks.

Harry is hanging onto the stranger's tattooed arms for dear life, as if the man himself is a flotation device, soaking his clothes completely through. "Th-thanks," he chokes out.

Niall is almost speechless. "How did you-- where did you come from?"

"I come here sometime with my dad," the stranger explains with a polite smile, as if rescuing drowning campers is an everyday occurrence. "We like to fish. We don't usually catch people."

"Holy shit. Thank you," Niall says. He sinks to his knees to reach Harry, to touch him, as if he can't quite believe his own eyes, that the terror of the last few minutes has vanished with the sudden appearance of this gently smiling man. "Holy shit," he repeats, at a loss for any thought more complex than pure, unmitigated relief. "Thank you, Mr.--"

The man laughs and his eyes crinkle with the breadth of his smile. "Please, call me Liam."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
